The Christmas Letter
by Melchy
Summary: It's that time of year again, the annual Christmas letter must go out. But writing it seems harder than usual.


**The Christmas Letter **

**Summary: Writing the family Christmas Letter, can be quite a challenge with other things on your mind **

**Rating: K+**

**Disclaimer: The characters from the Ghost and Mrs. Muir belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber Productions. All others belong to me. **

**Thanks to Mary for the edit and to Susan Griffith and the comic strip Stone Soup by Jan Eliot, for inspiration. **

**Season's Greetings from the Muirs. **

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No, that doesn't sound right. My father always says the problem with the world today is not enough people say Merry Christmas and more. Hmmmm. Okay, let's try this. 

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Merry Christmas from the Muir Family. 

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No, that doesn't quite do it either. I know the Muir family means me and the children, but some might assume that includes Ralph and Marjorie. Which is silly, because I haven't lived with them in over six months. But some people see Muir and automatically think... Okay, Carolyn YOU think. It shouldn't be this hard to write the Christmas letter. 

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Merry Christmas! 

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That cuts to the point, but it's not very personal. A holiday greeting should be for the person you are sending it to. I don't want them to feel like it's a generic greeting, that I'm sending to everyone, even if that's what it is. 

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Now With the Holidays Upon Us... 

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Blast! What do I think I am? — bloody Shakespeare? That is entirely overdone and overblown. Concentrate, Carolyn. It's just a holiday letter, it's not like you've never written one before. 

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Merry Christmas from Carolyn, Jonathan and Candy. 

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That would work. But it looks so lonely. I know I should be over it by now, it's been two years but it still looks naked when I write my name without Bobby's beside it. Take a deep breath, Carolyn. This isn't your income tax, it's just a letter.

**Wishing you the best of the season...**

_Now that is nice, but it sounds more like an ending and not the opening sentence. Maybe I should skip the opening for now and just proceed with the heart and then go back. I'll save the wishing you line for the end, I like that. All right, let's get this over with. I would much rather be making cookies with the kids. _

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**Dear Folks... **

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No! That makes me sound like I love everyone and everyone loves me and it sounds kind of hokey. Blast, it's almost 1:00. The kids sound like they are having fun. Not to mention the smell of the cookies coming up the stairs is driving me insane. Chocolate chip! 

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**Dear Friends, **

_  
All right. Technically, I know that not everyone who receives one of these letters is a friend. But it's the best one I can think of. And there is no reason to be so technical. Besides at this rate, if I don't start this letter, I will NEVER get it finished. Who thought up the idea of Christmas letters anyway? _

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Dear Friends, 

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Greetings from Schooner Bay! 

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As some of you might not have heard, the children and I moved from our home in Philadelphia to the small town of Schooner Bay, Maine, in September. 

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Well of course they haven't heard. You didn't tell anyone, Carolyn. And I still think it was the right thing to do, but it makes the above sentence sound, well, stupid. But when you want to start over, you want to start over and I really need that clean slate. I love Philadelphia and I miss my parents and friends, but I wanted, needed to get away. And the less people who knew about it, the easier it would be. 

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**In September of this year, the children and I, along with Martha Grant started out on an adventure. We left our home in Philadelphia and rented a small cottage on the ocean by the sea? In upstate Maine**

_Note to self, is this upstate? No, that won't do. And too many questions for me to find the answers to, which I don't have time for. It's a week till Christmas and I should have done this much earlier. That's on my list of resolutions for next year — don't procrastinate and be organized. _

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Dear Friends,

**  
As 1968 draws to a close...**

_No, sounds like the year is dying. Not the image I want to portray right now. Blast it's 2:30. Why does time slip by so fast when you don't want it to? _

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Dear Friends

_Greetings to family and friends — NO! _

**Dear Friends, **

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As 1968 draws to a close...

_Yes, I'm using it, blast it!_

**I find going back over the months that it was a year of blessings. In September of this year, the children and I, along with our dear friend Martha Grant, left our home in Philadelphia, moving to the small town of Schooner Bay, Maine. We were fortunate enough to find a new home aptly named Gull Cottage that stands on the loveliest stretch of ocean I've ever known. After a somewhat bumpy start...**

**  
**_Bumpy isn't quite the word to describe it. I will never forget that first night as long as I live. Of course I didn't believe that there was a ghost here! Normal, sane people did not believe in ghosts! I have always had a great imagination and have always encouraged my children to use theirs, but really. Beyond a Dickens's tale or a good Halloween movie, ghosts just didn't exist. After five or ten minutes of time with Mr. Gregg, it just made sense to me that someone in his nervous state, might think there was a ghost here, but of course I knew better. I'm afraid I chalked Mr. Peavy's run out of the cottage to the fact that he was a New Englander and not knowing them like I do know, assumed he was slightly provincial. I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. It was just so laughable. And the suddenly, I wasn't laughing anymore. Because he was there — the ghost. The first thing I saw were his eyes. They were blue, but not the blue of my late husband's — the color of the sky, but blue like the ocean right before a storm hits. I had to pinch myself several times to see if I was really awake, while I talked with him. I still don't regret leaving that first night, however. Through leaving I could see that I really only ever wanted to stay..._

_I'm getting completely off track here! _

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...we have settled in quite well to Gull Cottage. It is a lovely home, filled with items from another time. The house was built in the 1840's by Captain Daniel Gregg, a merchant sailor... 

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Seaman, blast it. I can hear him say it now. He gets so worked up if you call him the wrong thing, the storm stirring his eyes. I can hardly look at him when he's angry, because it is then I find him most attractive...

_Carolyn! Stop it!_

**...A merchant seaman. It has its problems, as all old houses do, but we've all become quite fond of it. The children are enjoying school and like the small classes they have here. Candy is in 4th grade and Jonathan in 2nd. My, how time does fly! I find I, too, am settling into the small community of Schooner Bay.**

**  
**_  
Sure, after the Captain made me look like a fool in front of Miss Grover and the historical society. Not to mention what he did to my magazine article! I'm afraid the wound on this one is still fresh, it was only seven days ago that my story came out in Feminine View... not to be my story at all. He thought what I wrote of his tale was too tame, and reworked the whole thing! I am so very glad I didn't get around to sending my mother a copy. And even though it's been a week, men still whistle when I walk down the street. To tell the truth, it really was some kind of story, I think the dear Captain has a taste for... um... shall we say... racy situations?_

_Oh, Carolyn do not let your mind go there! _

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I have quickly fallen in love with the town meetings, the quaint speech of the natives and the closeness of the people who live here. The quiet of our surroundings is quite nice for writing, and I am confident this move was right for us. And while I do miss my family and friends, I am glad for the decision we made to move here. Yes, it has been a time of changes and differences...

**  
**_  
Changes. Life with a ghost certainly brings about plenty of change. Especially when he's egotistical, opinionated, stubborn and hotheaded. Especially when I never know where he's going to show up, what he might say, or what kind of mood he might be in. But I'm learning to put up with it, I'm getting used to it. No, to tell truth, I'm not sure I could live without it now. Him and his blue eyes and comforting voice. His unique outlook on the world around him. The way he looks at my son, like he loves him as I do, his gentleness and patience with him. _

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His kindness to us all overwhelms me, especially to Candy and Martha who have no idea he is here among us. I lo — like his blustering ways and the look on his face when he's so damn pleased with himself. I marvel at his hands, they look so strong, so real, like you could grasp them. I can't help but think, how big they are and how tiny mine would be inside of it. I can almost feel his thumb running over my skin...

_Oh, Carolyn, get a life. _

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But what is life without change? I look forward to our continued time here and hope that as the New Year advances some of you might come and share our new experience for a few days. 

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Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Joyful New Year! 

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Carolyn, Candy and Jonathan. 

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Now that wasn't so hard was it? I wonder my face feels so red?


End file.
